No One Can Be Happy In Eternal

How Odd It Is That We So Often Weep For Each Other's Distresses, When We Shed Not A Tear For Our Own!

I Wished To Tell The Truth, For Truth Always Conveys Its Own Moral To Those Who Are Able To Receive It.

The Bud, Though Plucked, Would Not Be Withered, Only Transplanted To A Fitter Soil To Ripen And Blow Beneath A Brighter Sun; And Though I Might Not Cherish And Watch My Child's Unfolding Intellect, He Would Be Snatched Away From All The Suffering And Sins Of Earth; And My Understanding Tells Me This Would Be No Great Evil; But My Heart Shrinks From The Contemplation Of Such A Possibility, And Whispers I Could Not Bear To See Him Die.

I Will Give My Whole Heart And Soul To My Maker If I Can,' I Answered, 'and Not One Atom More Of It To You Than He Allows. What Are You, Sir, That You Should Set Yourself Up As A God, And Presume To Dispute Possession Of My Heart With Him To Whom I Owe All I Have And All I Am, Every Blessing I Ever Did Or Ever Can Enjoy - And Yourself Among The Rest - If You Are A Blessing, Which I Am Half Inclined To Doubt.

Preserve Me From Such Cordiality! It Is Like Handling Briar-roses And May-blossoms - Bright Enough To The Eye, And Outwardly Soft To The Touch, But You Know There Are Thorns Beneath, And Every Now And Then You Feel Them Too; And Perhaps Resent The Injury By Crushing Them In Till You Have Destroyed Their Power, Though Somewhat To The Detriment Of Your Own Fingers.